


Dance With Me

by Writer_Of_Life



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, With force if necessary, anthea ships it, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Of_Life/pseuds/Writer_Of_Life
Summary: A mission goes wrong and Sherlock is hurt. Mycroft deals with the aftermath. Then help arrives.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 117





	Dance With Me

The crash is audible from the bottom of the stairs at 221 Baker Street. Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade increases his pace, taking the stairs two at a time. As always, the door to 221 B is unlocked and slightly ajar. Voices can be heard through the small space between the door and the frame. Lestrade stops to listen. He doesn’t want to interrupt anything personal.

“Dr. Watson, I understand that Sherlock is upset, but I need to speak with him,” Mycroft’s voice slides past his ears as he leans close to the opening. “Please.”

“Upset? He isn’t upset, Mycroft. He’s bloody high,” John says. “You sent him into that hell hole without backup and without warning me. He fought them you know. His knuckles are torn to shreds where he struggled to free himself. They held him down and pumped him so full of that shite that the only reason he isn’t dead is because I found them first. But, you knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”

“No, John, of course not, I -” Another crash has Lestrade pushing through the door.

Sherlock has Mycroft pushed against the wall, his forearm across his chest. The younger Holmes was not moving and Mycroft was not fighting back.

“Why are you still here?” Sherlock screams at his brother. “To see me compromised? Enjoying the show, brother dear?” He twists his head to the side and studies Mycroft’s face.

“Sherlock, please,” Mycroft’s eyes are wide as he stares at his little brother. “I had no idea they would drug you. I would never have sent you in if I even suspected they would —”

“Liar!” The consulting detective shoves Mycroft back against the wall and raises his fist. Greg lunges between the brothers and grabs Sherlock’s wrist. “You’ll regret that, Sherlock. I promise you.”

Sherlock growls and Greg pushes him away gently. He stumbles and John catches him with a arm around his waist. “Easy, Greg.” John’s eyes convey warning. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Greg keeps himself between Mycroft and the rest of the room. “Oh, he knows. I have seen him solve triple murders higher than he is right now. He knows exactly what he’s doing.” Greg shifts his eyes to Sherlock. “Don’t touch him again.”

Sherlock laughs high and loud. “Really, Geoff, you can’t be serious.” He steps into Greg’s space, but the inspector does not waver. “There is a reason they call him the Ice Man.”

“That’s enough, Sherlock,” Greg says. “Let John put you to bed. Sleep it off and we can continue this tomorrow.”

John pulls Sherlock back by his waist. “He’s right, love. Let’s go to bed.”

Sherlock struggles out of his grasp and pushes past Greg to Mycroft. Greg shifts to physically haul Sherlock away from his brother, but a small raising of Mycroft’s fingers at his side stop him.

“Fine,” Sherlock snarls. “You can have him. Try not to get him killed.” He walks backwards until his back hits John’s chest and turns. “Goodnight, Inspector.”

“Goodnight, gentlemen,” John says as he half carries Sherlock towards the bedroom. “I trust you can see yourselves out.”

Mycroft adjusts his waistcoat and moves swiftly to the door. “Goodnight, Detective Inspector.”

Greg turns and follows Mycroft in his swift ascent down the stairs.”Wait, Mycroft.” The British Government ignores him and pulls the front door open only to have it slam shut. Greg pulls his hand back from reaching over Mycroft’s shoulder. “Talk to me, Myc. Please.”

Without turning, Mycroft gave his answer. “I can’t, Gregory. Not right now.”

Greg lets him go, watching his back as he climbs into his dark car. Thirty minutes later, the Inspector is back at his own flat, in comfortable clothes, and considering a rather stiff drink. He distantly hears his phone sound a message. He thinks about not checking it. But, he can’t. Not after the events of the evening.

If you are so inclined, join me for the evening. MH

That was not at all what Greg was expecting. The Holmes brothers usually kept their distance from him and everyone else when they had a public row. Especially when blows were almost thrown. Mycroft must feel like explaining the chaos he walked into at Baker Street. Good, he wanted answers anyway. 

Pick me up in an hour GL

Greg huffed as he stood from the couch. So much for that drink. Maybe Mycroft would allow him a taste from his high class cabinet. He quickly showered and put on a black t-shirt, jeans and pulled on his steel gray jacket. If he was going to deal with an upset Holmes, he was going to be comfortable. With a few minutes left, Greg decided to save whoever was coming to get him a few steps and lingered on his front steps. His flat was a wreck anyway.

As the black car idled up to the curb, he quickly made his way over and climbed inside. Expectedly, there was no one inside the back and he was able to relax a little while longer. Gather his thoughts for the coming storm. Hopefully, he could find something to help Mycroft fixate on other than the obvious danger he had accidentally put Sherlock in. Mycroft doesn’t have accidents and he doesn’t make mistakes. The coming conversation will be interesting to say the least. That is if Mycroft actually decides to confide in him.

The car pulls up to Mycroft’s home in Notting Hill and Greg waits for the car door to open. It does not. After a moment, Greg opens and steps out himself, slightly confused. Usually the driver will at least escort him through the gate, to the door. Security and all that. 

Come in. MH

As he reads the text, he realizes that this night is going to be a whirlwind of confusion and something in him prepares for that. Worst case scenario. Just like with Sherlock’s danger nights. Did the British Government have those? He has never had to make those preparations for Mycroft, but the feeling is so much the same he hesitates before opening the door.

A soft song meets his ears as he enters. It is coming from the drawing room at the end of the narrow hallway. Greg pulls off his jacket and leaves on the hooks beside the door. The stairway to his left was dark and quiet. The only light came from the room at the end of the hallway. Mycroft always met him at the door. The fact that he did not even acknowledge his entrance was yet another confusion added to the evening. Greg quietly made his way down the entryway, bypassing the open dining room for and stopping in the doorway of the drawing room. There was a fire in burning across the room, shedding a flickering light across the furniture and light colored walls. Mycroft was leaning on the open doorway to the balcony, two fingers of dark liquid in his shaking hand. The song Greg heard when he first entered the house was slightly louder as it echoed from the speaker beside the fireplace. Greg stepped into the room and when the younger man did not turn, he stopped.

“Mycroft?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the man by the open doors heard it and turned swiftly. The expression on his face was somewhere between shock and shame.

“Gregory! How did you get in here? I don’t understand —“ Mycroft cut off his own thought. “Anthea. She refused to surrender my phone this evening. I’m afraid you have been brought here under false pretenses.”

Greg held his gaze as the knowledge of what just happened settled in to his mind. It was a set up. One Mycroft clearly did not appreciate.

“I am so sorry, Myc,” Greg says. “I can just go.”

He turns to leave, but stops when he hears a small noise from across the room. “Please, Gregory. Please stay.” His voice was broken and a sharp pain radiated from Greg’s chest. 

The Inspector allows a small smile to flash across his face before he turns back around and takes the few steps required to pull Mycroft into his arms. “Of course.”

Greg wasn’t sure exactly what he expected to happen when he hugged the man he had daydreamed about for years, but it wasn’t this. Mycroft’s hands instantly fist into the back of Greg’s shirt pulling him as close as possible, shoving his face into the crook of Greg’s neck. The inspector feels the dampness of Mycroft’s cheek and wonders that a man so powerful could actually cry. It breaks his heart and he pulls the impossible man even closer.

“Gregory, I apologize.” Mycroft tries to pull away, but Greg just holds him closer as the song rolls on to the next. It seems slower and sadder than the one before. “I had no idea they would do that to him. I had no idea — I swear it. If I thought for one second they would —“ 

Greg brings his hands up to cup Mycroft’s face and pulls away just enough to be able to see him. “Hey, it’s OK. I know that. Hell, he knows that, but he’s too high to concede that right now. You remember how violent he can get and John doesn’t know better. He’s angry because he feels like he didn’t protect him.” Greg strokes his thumb across Mycroft’s damp cheek bone and looks him in the eye. “I’m sorry that things went south today. But, I promise you he will feel guilty about it tomorrow.”

Mycroft sighed and pushed his face back into Greg’s shoulder. The great Mycroft Holmes was hiding. “I feel guilty about it now. They could have killed him and it would have been my fault. My little brother’s blood would have been on my hands.” Greg felt him sag against him and quickly moved his hands to Mycroft’s waist, pulling him closer.

“He’s not hurt and he is safe with John,” Greg whispers in his ear. “You have to learn to forgive yourself for circumstances that are beyond your control.”

Mycroft huffed at that statement. “Nothing is beyond my control.”

Pulling back again, he put his forehead against Mycroft’s. “Sherlock is usually beyond anyone’s control. John is getting better at it, but we both know he is a hurricane that sometimes happens to do enough damage that it leans in our favor.” Mycroft was looking at him, their lips a breathe apart. “Now, your assistant obviously knew you needed someone with you this evening. So, talk to me.”

“You,” Mycroft says quietly. “She knew I needed you.”

Greg smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to Mycroft’s lips as the music volume seemed to increase on it’s own, playing one of his favorite sad songs. “Then let me be here for you. We can talk later. Right now, just dance with me.”

Greg tucks Mycroft’s face back into his neck and sways them slightly with the tune. He feels Mycroft grow relaxed in his arms and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Why don’t I put you to bed? I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

Mycroft’s answer was barely a huff of breath against his neck. “Just one more song. Please.”

Greg smiles as he nods. “Just one more.”

________________________________

When Anthea lets herself in the next morning, the scene before her brings a rare smile to her face. Mycroft is curled around Greg, his head on the Inspector’s chest as they sleep on the large sofa. She sets a gentle alarm on Mycroft’s phone and leaves it on the coffee table beside them, quietly making her exit.

“Anthea,” her boss calls her name as she makes it to the door. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, the first song playing when they begin to dance is “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors.


End file.
